


Reeking Reek and Reeking Feet

by Disembowel-me (Sarunkoku)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Humiliation, M/M, Non-Consensual Toe Sucking, Scent Kink, Unsanitary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25769212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarunkoku/pseuds/Disembowel-me
Summary: Ramsay has unconventional ways of relaxing after a long day. Reek's devotion knows no bounds.
Relationships: Ramsay Bolton/Reek, Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Reeking Reek and Reeking Feet

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on tumblr over a year ago but I still really like it

Reek had been instructed to wait in Ramsay's private chamber, and so he did.

He had been there since morning. He hadn't been given a task besides wait, so he had spent the day dozing on and off as he would in the kennels, but here he was granted the privilege of a bed made of soft carpet furs and a warm fireplace.

'Warm' did not do it justice. It heated Reek thoroughly, down to his core. It was rare he was allowed to spend this much time in such a luxurious place where he did not belong, especially alone. He did not deserve it, but Ramsay had given it to him anyway. Reek curled up tighter on the floor, half whimpering, half humming to himself. It felt so good. He had such a kind Master.

The thump of footsteps approached in the hallway and quickly excitement lept up Reek's throat. He shot up, ignoring the protesting of his body. It could be just a servant, but judging by the heavy steps, it was...

The door opened with a loud creak and Ramsay Bolton stood in the doorway. His mere presence was commanding and powerful, he was so tall and massive and intimidating and Reek couldn't help but shake before his Lord. The thick cloak clasped around his neck billowed around him as he strode forward.

"Reek! My sweet Reek. Did you miss me while I was away?" Ramsay reached down with his hand - his big, meaty hand, so large and strong compared to Reek - and caressed Reek's face, giving him a little scritch under the chin. Reek melted into the touch, nuzzling the clammy palm. It was stained with something dark and dry and a little smudged off onto Reek's cheek.

"Yes, m'lord," he murmured into Ramsay's touch, so grateful for it. It soothed his pain and enveloped him with warmth, kindness, affection. Things he so desperately craved and loved to receive from his Master. "I missed you so." His voice was quiet and rough from months of misuse and dehydration.

Ramsay hummed approvingly and lingered for a moment with his thumb rubbing his pet's cheek before pulling away and taking long strides toward his reclining furniture in front of the fireplace. Reek followed the comfort of his hand as far as he could but did not dare grab for it. Never would think of it. No, he knew better than that. He watched Ramsay strip layer after layer of clothing off as he sometimes did after a long day, but he left his pants and boots on. Then, he sat down and motioned for Reek to come closer.

Reek obeyed, finding his place kneeling at his Master's feet. His frail knees popped and screamed; all of his joints protested the motion every time, every time he would squat or stand or rise from an uneasy slumber they would buckle and strain and he felt as though they would give out any day now, but they never had. Perhaps it was by the mercy of his Lord, his discipline and love and punishments that held him together in functioning order. He was grateful. He wasn't sure how he would serve, how he _could _serve once they finally did give out. What would happen to him when he truly could no longer command his legs to stand on his own?  
__

He didn't want to think about it.

With his nose close to his Master's feet, he could smell the forest on his boots. He hadn't told Reek what he was doing when he had fetched him from the kennels, simply that he wanted him to wait for him in his room. Reek didn't mind, quite the opposite. Ramsay's room was so warm, so warm compared to the chilly drafts and stone-cold floors of the kennels, and the soft rugs he could lay on here were so much easier on his bones. Perhaps Ramsay had gone out for a hunt today? Or spent the day in the dungeons, flaying some poor soul of all his secrets? Maybe he had attended his father with some political matters? That was unlikely, seeing as Ramsay was in a good mood. It didn't matter either way. He was here now with him.

The scent on his boots was reassuring. Reek liked it. It was deep and mildly musty, the aroma of the earth and soft leather and sweet decaying things of the ground gently wafting pleasantly to his nostrils. They were things of the dirt. Like... like him.

Reek quickly pushed the traitorous thought from his mind. There was no way he could compare in any way with his Lord's boots. He cringed and chided himself internally for thinking it. Sometimes he couldn't help from finding kinship in his Lord. It was greedy and selfish, but he really, truly, could not help himself. If Ramsay could read his mind, surely he would flay him for being so presumptuous. Reek almost wished he would. Flaying had always fixed bad behavior, as extreme of a measure it was, and it hurt Reek so to debase his Master by daring to equate the two of them in any way. It didn't matter if he was the only one who would ever know, it was still treacherous.

Reek _reeked_. It was who he was; what he was. His Lord's boots covered in shit would be the finest perfume compared to Reek's daily stench. His fingers twitched, but if Ramsay saw any signs of his pet's inner turmoil, he didn't show it.

I've had a terribly long day, Reek. Do you know what a lord like me goes through in a day?"

Once upon a time, he had known. A different man had known. But that man was long dead, and Reek's mind was empty save for what his Lord decided for him. Sometimes Ramsay would drag him along for the day, but it was so rarely Reek could not remember and could not even guess. "I know not, my lord," he replied.

Ramsay chuckled. "I thought not." He stared down at his creature for a moment and sucked in a breath as if he was going to rant to it about his day, but decided against it. He instead let out the breath in a deep sigh, and his heavy body sank down further into the furniture. "I have been on my feet all day and they ache terribly."

Reek knew the ache. His whole body ached, all the time. From raw wounds in tender skin to cold pangs that constantly shook through his bones. He could not remember a time he wasn't in pain. It was as much part of him as his loyalty to Ramsay. "That's terrible, m'lord. 'M sorry." He offered his sympathies earnestly. That his great Lord was in pain... that was unacceptable. "Would you have me do something to help?" His dry throat was quickly degrading his voice to a rasp.

"So sweet, my Reek..." Ramsay mused. "What would you do?"

Reek paused for a moment. No matter how many times Ramsay turned the questions back on him, he struggled every time. Luckily, this question was easy, and a wrong answer here likely wouldn't provoke Ramsay. "I... could massage them?" He offered, looking to his Master for approval before motioning to grab a booted foot.

Ramsay almost snickered and nodded. "Go on, then."

Reek tried to unlace Ramsay's boots quickly, but they were tied tightly with a large knot that he had to pick at painfully with his weak nails and constantly trembling fingers. Once the laces were free and Reek pulled the tongue loose, he firmly grabbed the heel and toe of the boot (as firmly as he was able, anyway) and pulled. He set the boot out of the way, reached up his Lord's pant leg to get at the top of his sock, and had it peeled halfway off before the smell wafted up to his nostrils. Thick and sour, it clung to Reek with every breath. He had to focus on not grimacing. Was this what Ramsay dealt with every time he summoned Reek? His heart both swelled and shrank at the thought. He was a revolting creature, but his Master loved him dearly anyway.

He continued to remove the woolen sock, still damp. From melted snow or Ramsay's sweat, Reek did not know. He tucked it next to the boot. Then he again reached down to hold his Lord's foot in his lap between both hands.

"Oh, but... I forgot."

Both Reek and Ramsay, so far, had been in a good mood tonight. A rare occurrence. But at those four innocent words, terror struck Reek and his body froze up.

Ramsay peered down at his creature, tone condescending and gleeful and cruel all at the same time. "Remind me: how many fingers do you have?"

"...My lord?" Reek blinked in confusion, fear slowly gripping his throat like clawing fingers. "How many...?"

A thick hand smacked the side of his head and grabbed one of Reek's fragile wrists. "You really are dense, aren't you?" Ramsay chided and splayed open the mutilated hand. "Look, Reek."

Look he did. He looked at his ugly, maimed appendage, held up and spread out in the light. He didn't want to look. He didn't want to see the painfully thin fingers, disgusting grey and calloused skin stretched over bone and bulging joints. He didn't want to see the stumps, leftover of what used to be. He didn't want to, but Ramsay said to, so he looked.

Ramsay's eyes looked so cold. "One..." He tapped Reek's pinky. "Two..." He tapped Reek's middle finger. Tears pricked Reek's eyes as he realized what Ramsay was doing. Shame flooded him at his foolishness. "Three!" Ramsay tapped his thumb. "You have three fingers on this hand, Reek. How do you expect to massage a foot effectively with three fingers?"

Reek quickly diverted his gaze to the floor. If shame were a tangible thing, it would be fuming from his ears. His voice was low now, and even more quiet. He wasn't sure Ramsay could even hear him. "Wh... what would you have me do instead, m'lord?"

A wicked grin split Ramsay's thick lips. "Put them in your mouth."

Reek very nearly dropped the foot in his grip. "M- M'lord?" He stammered. Surely... his Lord Ramsay Bolton wasn't serious. Surely it was a jest. But while those icy grey eyes were smiling when Reek looked upon his dear Master's face, it was clear he was not joking.

"You can't very well use your useless fingers. So use your mouth. _It_ still works, does it not?"

A hot flush of embarrassment colored Reek's ashen skin pink. If there was any trace left of the man he used to be, it came out when Ramsay would use his mouth. He would not fight, had not fought in a long time, but he would weep as dignity he didn't realize he still had was torn from him.

It did not happen often. Ramsay had many far prettier, better smelling whores to fuck, but, ' _none cry as pitifully as you_ ,' Ramsay had once said to him. It was true - Reek would whine and sob and cry and cry until he could not see or breathe and snot and tears and drool all mixed together to flow down his lips along Ramsay's cock. His jaw and throat would ache and the cloying taste of his Master’s seed would stick to the roof of Reek's mouth for days until he was given food scraps to replace it.

It was horrifically shameful, and Reek tried not to think about it as he lifted the foot of his Master to his mouth. Staring down his nose at it, it smelled even stronger now. His toes were just like the rest of him: long and large and pudgy, hair growing thickly on the knuckles. The skin on the bottom was moist and wrinkled from stewing all day in his sweat. That... was going in his mouth. Ramsay really wanted him to... Was making him...

Slowly, he drew in his face closer until his lips were almost touching them. He could taste the stink in the back of his throat. It stung his nostrils and coated the roof of his mouth. Reek tried not to wrinkle his nose too hard in disgust. It wasn't the worst thing he'd had in his mouth, far from it. Why was he having such a hard time?

"What is it, Reek? Why do you hesitate?" Ramsay had his eyebrows cocked. "Do you not appreciate your filthy paws being allowed to touch me?"

 _No_ , he tried to say, but it was like his lips were stuck shut. _I am grateful_.

"Or..." Ramsay's tone darkened. Is it that you think you're too good for this?" He began to lean forward.

"N-no!" Reek managed to stammer out, dread filling him at the mere idea. "No, m'lord! Never! I-"

He- what? What was he going to say? What should he say? He reeled for words but his mind was blank, a jumbled mess of thoughts that made no sense. Stupid Reek. Dimwitted Reek. That's what Ramsay would say. With every passing moment, fear seized Reek further. Tongue-tied. It wasn't often he couldn't find words to speak; usually, he was able to manage even the simplest of replies. Even the dumbest dogs could bark. But now, all Reek could do was stare mouth agape.

Mouth...

With little more thought, Reek hastily shoved two of Ramsay's toes into his open mouth. Ramsay laughed and sunk back down to a reclining position.

A few seconds passed in silence before Ramsay prompted him to continue. "Well? Are you going to just hold them there?"

Reek made some sort of humiliated sound, high pitched and curt, and first moved his tongue. Mindful of the sharp edges of his broken teeth, he moved position to better lick the whorls and water wrinkles on the bottom of Ramsay's toe. He had cut himself on his teeth before - he had also cut his Lord Ramsay on his teeth before.

That was not a mistake either of them wanted him to repeat.

Strangely, the taste wasn't as bad as the smell, which Reek was grateful for. In some aspects, it wasn't unlike having a finger in his mouth. The salty taste was... similar, if not fouler, more pronounced. Far more pungent. In other aspects, it was wildly different. Hair did not grow quite like that on fingers, and fingers weren't shaped like that, not at all. The fat, short appendages with their thick, knobby knuckles felt so strange in the soft, sensitive tissues of his mouth.

An awful thought crept up in Reek's mind. If he were to suck on one of his finger nubs, would he be able to tell the difference from a toe? ...If Ramsay took all his fingers, would he be rendered a four-legged creature?

He didn't entertain the thought long enough to contemplate the answer. Instead, he shoved it back far, far into the depth of his mind and replaced it by moving his lips and, with an obscene slurp, he sucked on the two toes in his mouth. The space between them prevented any significant suction from forming and Reek continued to drool, slurping and sucking it noisily back up the best he could. The sound made him shudder and burn in shame, but he couldn’t let that get in the way of his work.

This seemed to please Ramsay greatly. "Gooood dog," he cooed. "Good Reek. So eager to please your master, are you?"

Reek whimpered and nodded in agreement. Yes. By the gods, how he despaired at the thought of what he was doing and he wasn't sure how much hotter his body could get without bursting into flames, but yes. He still wanted to please. As long as Ramsay was happy...

"Open your eyes and look at me."

Reek whimpered again. He hadn't even realized they were closed, didn't know for how long. Would Ramsay beat him later for that? He hoped not. The thought made him quiver and shake and he had to force it out of his head if he hoped to keep functioning. Instead, he focused on his Master's face, dark hair and pale eyes. Ramsay was smiling, amused it seemed, but Reek kept his gaze low and submissive.

"Lick the top, Reek." When Reek gave the slope of Ramsay's foot a tentative lick, he was quick to correct him. "No, more than that! Use your whole tongue. None of that 'just the tip' nonsense." Reek whined quietly and tried again, laving the bulk of his tongue over the skin, and again when that wasn't enough, grunting and straining to push out enough of his tongue to satisfy Ramsay. "Now, those two toes right there."

Reek made a sound high in his throat and moved to suck Ramsay's little toes. He realized he was gasping; he noticed large globs of saliva were covering the ones previously in his mouth and was dripping onto the floor. A fresh wave of indignity washed over him. What was he doing this for again? To... to _massage_ his Lord's feet? Was that what this was?

He almost wished Ramsay would fuck his mouth instead.


End file.
